


Whiskey-Soaked Revelations

by filthyvictorian



Category: Heavy Rain
Genre: (one kill), M/M, One Shot, hello there 2016 heavy rain fandom this is your friendly reminder norman's gay as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 15:16:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9130129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthyvictorian/pseuds/filthyvictorian
Summary: Drinking alone is rarely the cause of any good outcomes. But "rare" doesn't mean "never".





	

So that was that. The case was over; Shaun Mars was found alive, the Origami Killer had found a timely, if unorthodox, demise in the form of a chipper, and Norman was being hailed as a hero because of it. He should be happy, probably, not that the feeling ever came particularly naturally to him, hence his… vices. Vice. There was only really one, he guessed. There could be another, if only there were more eligible bachelors in the Washington division of the FBI, but alas, the only man he’d ever found a likely suitor was as bad as taking hints as he was at giving them, so in the 3 years before his former coworker was transferred to another division (L.A., he thought), nothing had ever happened. Thank God for ARI… Fuck, that was a pathetic thing to think about. He took another shot of whiskey.

Agent Norman Jayden was currently sitting alone in his moderately decent hotel room, drinking… “celebratory” shots and watching the news of the incident pan out. He wanted to be doing this at home with his cat, Whiskers (Norman was in a field of analysis and not of arts for a reason), but the boss had told him to stay there a few more days, talk to the press, whatever the fuck else. He took another shot.

The whiskey was making him think about two things. One, that his boss was a dick and maybe moderately decent hotel rooms in cities where it never stops raining aren’t worth the pay, and two, that Whiskers was a sweetheart and damned if he didn’t love her but also damned if he wasn’t fucking lonely. His dating pool was already small enough in his line of work, and it was only made smaller due to the fact that flirting was apparently not a hereditary skill.

Another shot, another thought. Maybe this 3-star hotel room could be made worth it. Maybe he could go out, find someone nice – maybe he didn’t even have to look very hard, since he knows where to find a nice guy already, someone he likes, someone strong and with a good heart with a sweet kid who he hopes would like Whiskers – hold on there. He was just thinking about sex, right? Not building a damn family. Not that he would mind that. Ethan Mars was good looking, sure, with his squared jaw covered in a persistent five o clock shadow, and his nice arms which Norman wished he would stop hiding with a coat (though he supposed the bad weather was more to blame for that one). But there were the other qualities, too. Traits which he realizes too late people don’t usually notice unless they’re in too deep. Fuck it.

He took another shot.

–-

Ten minutes and twenty dollars later (cab companies are the true criminals, Norman thought through a bit of a haze), he was standing in front of a warehouse-turned-apartment building in the heart of downtown. His finger twitched. He had left the whiskey at home, but he thought vaguely of taking a whiff of the Triptocaine sitting safely in his pocket, just to calm his now-rattled nerves. He willed the thought away. (Maybe he should toss it, he thought. Go clean. Or maybe if this didn’t pan out he’d take the rest and just be done with it.)

The door to the building’s lobby was unlocked, but a wary doorman was on guard inside. Norman gave him a nod as he entered. The doorman just stared. Across from said doorman was an intercom, equipped with a pinpad to call whichever room number you needed. Norman didn’t know which room number he needed. Shit.

“Excuse me,” he said, turning back to the doorman. “Any idea which room Ethan Mars is in?”

The doorman didn’t reply.

Norman cleared his throat, feeling his finger twitch again. He thought about the Tripto. He walked pointedly back outside, ready to find a safe place to indulge himself when he felt a buzz in his back pocket.

His cellphone.

Duh.

The buzz was just a notification that one of his apps had recently been updated, but he didn’t even bother reading it before swiping it away and making a few drunken attempts before finally making it to Ethan’s contact page and hitting the phone icon. He held his breath as he held the device to his hear and heard the tinny ring. On the third tone, Ethan answered.

“Hello?”

Norman froze. He was still holding his breath.

“Hello? Listen, if this is another one of those crank calls, I will call th–”

“Ethan, hi! No, it’s me, Norman Jayden,” he said quickly, nearly running out of air near the end.

“Is there something wrong?” Ethan asked, sounding suddenly like he was on full alert. Norman smacked himself on the head for worrying him.

“No, no, everything’s fine. I’m outside, actually. Wondering if you could let me in?” This was so weird, and he felt stupider and stupider with every word he said. But it was too late now. The whiskey may have brought him here, but he’d stayed of his own volition, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

“Oh. Um, yeah, sure.”

\-- 

“Well fancy meeting you here,” Norman said when Ethan had opened the door.

“I could say the same for you,” Ethan politely replied, not pointing out that this was his apartment, of course he would be here. Norman was the oddity, and he was painfully aware of that fact. But when he saw Ethan’s (sadly freshly shaven) face again, he realized he also really, really wished that he wasn’t. He wanted to belong in this apartment. He also sort of wanted to just reach out, grab Ethan’s face and pull him towards him, molding lips to lips and tangling fingers in hair and just–

“Daddy, is everything alright?”

Fuck! Shaun was here. Of course Shaun was here.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, Shaun,” said Ethan, turning his attention briefly to his son. And then to Norman, he said, “Did you need something, Officer Jayden?”

“Agent, actually,” he replied automatically. “But uh, no, not really. Sorry to bother you. I’ll be on my way.”

And he turned, intent on making a swift exit, but instead just tripping on his own foot and nearly plummeting onto thinly carpeted concrete – Ethan darted out in the nick of time, catching him and putting him back upright.

“Now hold on, there’s no way you came here for nothing,” Ethan said once everyone was back in standing position. Norman looked at him for a few minutes before sighing.

“Can we talk in private?” he asked. Ethan nodded, turning back to the apartment, telling Shaun he would “just be a minute, I have to discuss something with Agent Jayden,” before shutting the door. Well, shit. Now he had to tell him. Ethan was watching him expectantly.

“Well, I was just thinkin’,” Norman began, not really knowing where the sentence was going to start or end, just acting on instinct, “that maybe now that Shaun was back you might need somebody to help take care of him or something, and that maybe he would like it if somebody he knew, or at least sort of knew, was that person taking care of him. Not that I really know him, I guess, or you, that well, but, ya know, I know you a little, and I know that you’re a good looking guy, and that you probably eat food, and maybe we could eat food. Dinner. Together?”

That was a mess.

The two men were both trying to process what was just said. Norman was pretty sure he blacked out for part of it. He hoped whatever he said wasn’t too… No, it was definitely going to be embarrassing no matter what. He just hoped Ethan didn’t take it too badly. Norman could feel a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. His fingers twitched again. Somewhere, he could swear he heard a clock ticking, or maybe it was a timebomb–

“Dinner sounds nice.”

Holy fuckin’ shit.

Had he heard that right? He couldn’t have heard that right. But he was continuing.

“There’s a place down the road that I hear makes great burgers. I haven’t had a chance to try it out yet, what with all the unpacking and all.”

Holy. FUCKIN’. Shit. He had heard right, and Ethan Mars was inviting him to a burger joint for dinner. This was it, this was the whole reason he had been sent from Washington – somewhere in his whiskey-riddled mind, he was sure this was destiny. He was also pretty sure that if this was going to last, he’d have to get clean, and he’d have to ask for a job transfer, or maybe he would quit after all, and he’d have to figure out how to move everything including a high-maintenance Calico across a couple of state lines, but that could all wait for later. Right now, he would just focus on a dinner date with a nice man whose eyes were bluer than he’d ever seen the sky in this dreary city.

“I’ll pick you up on Wednesday?”


End file.
